It was amazing, Leonie thought, how even though she was surrounded by the smoke and sounds of busy London town in the evening, she felt like she was in a little sphere all of her own, and the evening sky was just a backdrop. She was waiting by the train station at the top of the stairs, absently watching the crowds and jolting every time she saw a glimpse of orange clothing, or mistakenly saw a top hat (she noted with some disappointment that no one seemed to wear top hats very much anymore). Everyone looked slightly worn and tired after their busy day full of busy things, yet Leonie felt so alert, so nervous. She found that no matter how much she tried to appear casual and relaxed, her skittish frame seemed to stick out like a sore thumb from the crowd. Perhaps her choice of attire did not help; a pale blue summery dress and a short white cardigan tied into a neat bow at the front seemed out of place amongst the suits and elegant dresses of the townspeople surrounding her. The thought of being obvious alarmed her, but she reassured herself that no one was paying any attention to her apart from the occasional glance.

That was until she spotted the Professor's top hat bobbing through the crowds in the distance. Leonie could see the Professor approaching from her vantage point, and the closer he approached, the more she found herself fiddling with her dress, pointlessly trying to tuck her hair behind her ears. She mentally scolded herself for acting like a schoolgirl, and lifted her face to better greet him, but in seeing that he was clutching a lovely bouquet of flowers she found her resolve withering again and she slipped into an enthusiastic examination of her shoes. She really did wonder where her usual bravery and confidence had disappeared to.

"Good evening, Miss Perritt". She jumped at his suddenly close voice, face flying upwards. "Might I say, you look absolutely lovely this evening."

"Professor!" she squeaked, as if he had caught her misbehaving.

"Please, call me Hershel," he smiled, "I think we can allow ourselves to be on first name terms."

"In that case, please call me Leonie," she smiled back, feeling the slight burn of a blush linger on her cheeks. But she felt some her usual confidence settle itself into her frame, albeit a little shaken by the look he was giving her.

It was curious, and expectant, almost as if he was holding his breath. Leonie wondered if he was expecting her to say something, but before she could even think of anything reasonable to say, he smiled gently, shaking his head.

"Oh, forgive me, where are my manners?" He lifted the almost forgotten flowers up and did an odd little bow as he presented them to her. "These are for you."

For a second she was too surprised to act, and simply stared at the dainty flowers, as if she had never seen flowers before. She couldn't recall ever having been given flowers in the past. It was...nice.

"These are so beautiful", she finally said, eyes relaxing as she took the flowers and held them to her nose to catch the delicate fragrance they held. "Thank you, but you really didn't need to go to such trouble."

"Nonsense. It is frightfully rude not to present a lovely lady with a bouquet when accompanying her for dinner. Besides", he plucked a blue flower from the bottom of the bunch and tucked it into the hair by her ear. "They do seem to go well with your lovely summer dress now, don't they?"

Leonie couldn't quite keep eye contact with him. A gentleman? A smooth talker more like! But perhaps that is what a gentleman is at the heart of things. Someone who effortlessly makes you feels comfortable, which perhaps, she thought, is just what she needs right now. But part of her was telling her that comfortable was dangerous, comfortable meant letting your guard down. Yet that voice, that lingering warning was drowned out by the feel of his arm looped in hers as they walked, how he was trying to slow down his naturally larger strides to accommodate her smaller ones and the gentle hum of his voice as they spoke casually of the weather and books they enjoyed.

She realised her lips had curled into a small smile and it seemed as if all her sense has been knocked out of her by the frantic beat of her heart. The voice warning her to keep her walls up seemed to wither with every footstep, every smile they shared, and every lingering glance. By the time they had reached the restaurant, Leonie couldn't remember what she had been worrying about, intrigue and wonder growing in her mind instead.

Intrigue and wonder though, seemed to be on the Professors mind also, meaning conversation when they arrived at the restaurant wasn't as easy as she had hoped. Not for a lack of conversational material, no, there was plenty of that, it was just that, well, to put simply, it was difficult trying to chat normally without slipping any odd details about herself. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him about herself, but rather that in doing so she may be putting herself and a number of other people at risk. But the business of conducting pleasant conversation riddled with cover-ups and secrets was difficult, and now that they were sat alone by a window, away from the noise and the people, his attention on her suddenly seemed excruciating.

"So Leonie, tell me, where do you come from? You seem to lack the air of a Londoner, not that that is a bad thing, of course", the professor asked politely, his menu lying untouched in front of him. Leonie hesitated, carefully opening her menu to pause for time.

"Well, it is a small town, quite far away," she answered. Her walls had come back up, meaning he need not know which town, nor that she moved from there when she was very young, so young in fact that she hadn't yet learnt to walk. "But I much prefer the city."

Not a lie, but not the full truth. She had always lived on the outskirts of London, enough to be out of the bustle, but close enough to know it well. She couldn't quite understand what he meant by lacking the air of a Londoner. She probably knew the streets better than most of the people sitting in this restaurant right now. Perhaps she looked a little odd compared to them?

"So what town is that? One I would have heard of?" he asked, absently opening his menu without looking at it.

"Oh, probably not", she laughed. Still not a lie. "So did you have a good day teaching today then?"

"Why, yes, it was wonderful, we are studying the remnants of various pottery found along the south coast. It is very interesting, though I hasten to add that my students probably don't quite share the same level of enthusiasm that I do." He chuckled, and Leonie found herself smiling. "Oh, but that reminds me, you expressed an interest in teaching, didn't you?"

Oh...had she? She recalled their previous meeting in the bookshop, and she gave herself a mental ticking off. Her mouth must have run ahead of her mind; that was the truth, and she was thankful that it was at least a harmless one. Perhaps it wouldn't matter if she let him in on that particular secret of hers. Besides, she didn't like lying. Or telling half truths. They're notoriously difficult to keep up with.

"I did indeed. But it is something that is unobtainable, sadly."

She gave a dejected sigh, before eyeing the menu, avoiding his eyes and any probing questions. Perhaps talking about food would be better.

"Not at all, I cannot see why not. What is it that you wanted to teach?"

A small battle began in her mind as to whether she should lie or simply tell him the truth. To cover up her hesitation, she examined the menu without actually reading it. "Ooh¸ that sounds lovely...oh, I'm sorry, what was your question?", she asked, looking up from the menu for a brief moment.

"What did you want to teach my dear?"

"Well, you see, that's...," she tried to find some formulation of words that would pass as a reasonable explanation as to why she couldn't say, but instead she found that her mouth had once again grown impatient and blurted out the real answer. "Art."

"How interesting!" the professor cheerfully exclaimed. Leonie searched his face for any sign of falseness, but either he was accustomed to faking pleasantries, or he was genuinely interested. Either one of those didn't seem particularly appealing to Leonie, the former because it meant she was boring him, the latter because it was confusing why a man interested in history and archaeology would be interested in a conversation that threatened to go into the territory of painting and sketching. Leonie felt the warnings murmur in her head again. This man was a detective of sorts. Perhaps it would do her well to bear this in mind.

"So do you practise it then?" He asked, oblivious to the waiter who seemed to be hovering nearby.

"Not as much as I would like," she confessed. "And I really wouldn't be able to teach it- I hardly know any art history."

Leonie thought that her lack of historical knowledge was probably the more suitable explanation she could give. Her lack of qualifications and experience was probably more likely to put a dampener on any teaching ambitions, but she was sure the curious Professor would then ask why she held no such qualifications. The only answer she would be able to give would be another lie to weave into her already huge web of secrecy, and she really didn't want another to keep a track of. Sometimes, she found it hard to believe that her livelihood had been all secrets and lies.

Before her thoughts could sink any lower, she noticed the waiter fidgeting uncomfortably, not knowing whether to cut in.

"I believe we shouldn't keep this gentleman waiting Hershel," she smiled at the waiter. "Apologies – I do end up in my own little world sometimes."

The professor ordered first, as Leonie pretended to have some trouble deciding what she would like. She took as long as she could without being rude, before finally picking the carbonara. Once the waiter had taken their orders, she played nervously with her napkin, trying to think of something safe to say. She wished she had asked for the specials, just to keep the waiter there for a bit longer.

"So can I see some of your art one day?" The Professor asked, taking his own napkin and placing it on his lap. "What do you like painting?"

"Portraits", she said automatically, mentally wincing at her lack of caution. "People are so...interesting. Even the plainest and most ordinary of people have something to capture on paper- a story. I like to imagine what those stories are."

This had probably been the truest thing she had said all evening. It was probably one of the few things she could talk about and be utterly honest. Portraits fascinated her to no end, and she found that she couldn't say anything but. Imagining the stories behind people really drove her to study the people she painted or sketched. It made her think of their lives outside of the small frame of time she was giving them. Their ordinary lives – interesting still, not necessarily boring, but safe and ordinary. She couldn't help but let those ordinary lives pull her in, even if it was for fleeting moments.

Like even now, she could make a story about the people in the restaurant. She nodded at two business men sitting not too far from them.

"See those two? They look tired, but satisfied. When I look at them, they're best buddies at work, having a good rest. They're celebrating a project well done."

The professor's eyes twinkled, catching onto this new game. "Fascinating... how about that table there?"

He tipped his head at a table in the centre of the room, a family with a little girl.

"They are here because it was Dad's turn to cook, and he burnt the dinner. He is a soft touch with his daughter, and took her here because they serve her favourite pudding."

As she said the words, the girl took a big bite of the ice cream sundae in front of her, her dad sneaking the cherry from his onto hers.

The professor laughed, and Leonie couldn't help but grin coyly at him.

"You're very good at this game! I can't say I would've come up with anything quite like that." He said once his laughter has subsided. "One last one, just to test you. Those two, by the window."

Leonie looked over at the couple her was referring too, and then felt quite embarrassed to be doing so. They were a young couple, looking quite nervous to be in each other's presence. They were eating much more slowly than one normally eats, partly because they talking to each other, but mainly because when the chatting faded, their eyes lingered on the other, smiles quivering on the corners of their lips.

"These two...are on their very first date. They very much like each other, but they're trying not to show it. They want to find out as much as they can about the other. He is looking at her, and still trying to work out how he managed to persuade such a beautiful girl to go to dinner with him.

There was no laughter, even as the man by the window looked at the girl, complete adoration written on his face, proving her point. Instead, when she looked back at the Professor, she found that he was giving her much the same look.

"They sound rather like us, don't you agree?" he said softly.

As he said it, she realised that he had picked the couple as a gentle way of explaining himself.

But before she could even begin to think of a reply, the door of the restaurant burst open, violently, and bounced off the wall so viciously that the glass in it cracked. Everyone in the restaurant jumped, staring at the black clad strangers entering, all sporting sunglasses despite the evening being dark already. There was a round of gasps as one pulled a gun from his side, and warily looked round the restaurant.

"You know what to do", he told his colleagues, who quickly sprung into action, spreading to various parts of the restaurant with large plastic cans, upturning tables as they went.

The professor stood up suddenly, panic glistening in his eyes. He reached out for Leonie's hand and pulled her out of seat. "We need to go right now", he said, any traces of their previous conversation gone.

Leonie didn't need to be told twice. She already knew what was going to happen, and she suspected that the professor already knew too. They hastily started exiting, the professor keeping hold of her hand as they weaved through the tables and other people, who cottoned onto the danger they were suddenly in when the men started pouring the contents of the plastic cans out and over every surface they could. The stench of petrol was unmistakeable.

Everyone rushed outside, and not a moment too late. Just as the restaurant owner had stepped out, the mysterious figures set the restaurant alight. They stormed out as quickly as they had entered, stopping to scan the terrified crowd. Leonie felt herself trying to shrink behind the Professor, certain that one of the men would spot her and drag her away to god knows where.

The building became engulfed in the alarmingly quick fire, creaking and crumbling as the flames licked and splintered the structure. The glass windows cracked and shattered as the roar of the inferno burst into the night air, the poisonous smog creeping spiralling and seeping into the night time fog.

Leonie tried to calm the cold dread that was creeping through her as the crowd scattered and screamed around them, sirens wavering in distance. The group of men tried not to flinch at the sound of the approaching police, but they obviously were perturbed enough to discontinue their violent search. The leader gave one last scan of the crowd before signalling to his colleagues, who all slinked into the chaos of people. Leonie hadn't realised she had stopped breathing until they had disappeared back into the crevices of London.

"Are you OK my dear?"

Leonie tore her eyes away from the retreating group to the Professor who had his hands wrapped around her shoulders, worriedly examining her vacant expression. His question broke the seal she had on her lungs, and she inhaled shakily, losing control and letting the fear that she was holding back creep into her brow and eyes.

"Y-yes", she managed.

"I am glad for that", he muttered, eyes closing with some small sense of relief.

But even as he offered her his jacket to help her with the shock, she couldn't help but look at the flames, and the scene of terrified people silhouetted against the smouldering building. It was all a violent reminder why she needed to keep her secrets.

The smoke of London town was suddenly not as magical as it was earlier.